Tales of The Flying Bunyip (D&D 3.5)

Everyone unwinds and head to Sansport

Abbadon and Edgar finished their entanglement with the “Drugs and Pugs” mission, while Celean, Otar, and Bartleby finished “Bully the Bully.”

It was morning and the 5 gathered at the Tipsy Gnoll for breakfast.

What once was a party of 5, was now 6. Edgar patted the head of a pug puppy who wore a name tag “Ser Wuffington,” and proceeded to give the pup some jerky. Abbadon was digging into his food with gusto, preparing for the trip ahead.

Celean, Otar, and Bartleby had an exhausted look on their faces as they ate their breakfast. The woman was staring at the pug, with occasional glances towards Edgar and Abaddon.

“So… The mission went smoothly and… you got a dog?”

“Mmhmm.” Abbadon looked up for a moment as he swallowed what was left of his breakfast.

“He’ll be the best. Swear it.” Edgar’s eyes were lit up with energy as he picked up the pug and held it up.

Before the red monk could inquire more on Abaddon and Edgar’s successful mission, Peter Quillin burst in from the front door. The once tired burned up man was now wearing traveling gear and a backpack full of various tools. He immediately made his way over to Abbadon.

“There you are! I am so happy to find you… Mr. Drekker informed me that you were headed north, and asked I came with. It seemed like you may need help loading your wagon and transporting equipment. It just so happens that Drekker has hired me to help you and your friends! I’ve already loaded up your wagon with supplies and the ale he promised. I guess you can call me your mule… but I’m just happy to help! I’ll be outside whenever you’re ready!” That said, Peter turned and rushed out. The man seemed filled with energy that he was in and out within a moments notice.

Abbadon looked like he was looking for words to say but was left with his mouth agape, the rest of the party seemed to stare at him hoping for answers. Finally the large man sighed and glanced at his companions. “Drekker? Why would he…”

Bartleby smiled as he glanced at Celean. “He was the dwarf we partied with awhile back. Edgar, myself, and Celean ran into him again right here, and we seemed to have gotten on his good side.”

Abbadon slapped the table top with a wide smile. “HE was Drekker?” The man seemed rather happy with their turn of fortune. Their adventure hadn’t been the best when it came to making friends, but it seems like lady luck had given them a chance.

Peter patted the back of Spider’s head and looked over as the others arrived. With a nod, he climbed to the front of the wagon as the others got on board.

The party earn their dues and prepare to head north

The stench of Kaldest Keep’s sewer was unbearable, and the party had ventured deep into it. Trash and bones laid scattered in the chamber that they stood in and the encounter was coming to an end. Abbadon held onto his shoulder where a deep cut had held him back from the rest of battle. Everyone else was not fairing as well, but the last skeleton was struck by Celean’s fist and crumbled to the ground.

“Lets… not do something like this again.” Otar muttered under his breath as he brought his bandanna over his nose.

The red monk plucked the skull of her fallen foe from the floor, and dropped it into the bag she carried. 6 skeleton heads to collect and 6 will be delivered.

As the others regrouped and took a moment to evaluate their wounds, Edgar had made his way down into the sewer and noticed a flickering light down the passages. As the halfling stuck close to the wall and snuck towards the light, he kept his head down in case it were enemies. According to the watchman Mitch, his companions were employed to go into the sewers and remove what undead presence was there. All in all it was a surprise. First he was falling asleep at the wedding grounds, and now he had awoken in a small city. All that mattered now however, was to figure out where he was.

“Lets head back. I… need a bath.” The familiar voice of Bartleby echoed through the sewers from the source of light as it made its way towards Edgar. It’s there that he felt a cold hand rest upon his shoulder. Edgar’s head jerked to look over his shoulder where a woman clad in a white wedding dress stared at him with wide piercing blue eyes. Her hand slowly pulled away from him and began to mouth inaudible words.

As the light came closer to where Edgar stood, Abbadon noticed the halfling’s clothing as he stared at the woman. “Uhm… Edgar?” The muscled man asked as he raised the torch in his hand.

“Yeah?”

“Who is that?”

“I don’t know.”

As Edgar slowly took a step away, it’s there that the woman in white suddenly evaporated.

“Here you go. All done.” Abbadon dropped the sack of skulls onto the counter of the man running the Outreach Center who took a moment to jerk his head back from the party’s exotic stench.

In the back Edgar tapped his chin in deep thought. While in the sewer, it seemed that the others had found the body of a dead man accompanied by the 6 skeletons they were employed to eliminate before. They had found what is claimed to be an escape route for some house, and then there was the unusual appearance of the ghostly woman. With a shrug of his shoulders, the halfling retired his thoughts and looked up at the job board.
Raising himself to the tip of his toes, the rogue plucked the job posting “Drugs and Pugs” while the bard grabbed another called “Bully the Bully.”

Otar shook out his cloak, hoping some of the smell would come off it as he looked amongst his companions. “You know… if we’re trying to make money faster. It WOULD be better if we split up.” Celean let out a sigh as she nodded. “I agree. But first, lets call it a night. I think we all need a good meal and a bath.”

Everyone had gone their separate ways, Edgar, Bartleby, and Celean decided to return to the Tipsy Gnoll for food. Otar to Lumbering Giant to catch up on his studies, and Abbadon to the Sleepy Time Inn. The large muscled man stood out in the establishment, where many of the other patrons in the dining room wore shirts and pants, Abbadon wore a kilt and a aura of confidence. He enjoyed the meat that was prepared for him, filled him up, spiced, it’s not something he was accustomed too, but it was nice to indulge once in awhile. For a moment another individual slipped into the dining room with hungry eyes. He wore rags, and his face suffered terrible burns. There was already a group of empty tables around Abbadon, and it made him stand out.

“S-sir… may I?” The man approached Abbadon without any concern for his safety. It seemed he was already used to the weird looks, and the muscled fighter struck him as familiar kin. With a slight nod, Abbadon pushed out a chair for the man who settled into it and gestured towards an unfinished loaf of bread.

“What happened to you friend?” Abbadon asked as he pushed the loaf of bread over to the beggar. There was a brief moment of silence as the burned man tore into the loaf of bread like it were his last meal. “I… fire… from Xel… It was attacked and destroyed… myself… many others homeless. You must of noticed the refugees pouring into the city.” Abbadon nodded as he listened to the man mutter between bites about a masked man who single handedly destroyed the small town.

As the last bit of bread was finished, the homeless man rose to his feet and lowered his head with a smile on his lips. “T-thank you m’lord. Your kindness is appreciated… m-my name is Peter Quillin, if… if our paths ever cross again, I owe you a great debt.” Abbadon simply gave a silent nod as the man left the dining room. Placing his hands on the tabletop and bringing himself to his feet, Abbadon left the room to take a bath and retire.

Edgar looked about the Tipsy Gnoll, appraising the patrons in case he could help their coin purses become lighter. To his dismay, everyone looked like they’ve little to give in the first place. As the halfling settled into a chair, Celean and Bartleby seemed to recognize a familiar face.

“Hey, I wanna thank ya for a great time the other night.” The dwarf from the previous night was sipping beer with a wide smile. He brought himself onto his feet and made his way over the their table. Pulling out a vacant chair and making himself at home, he waved over to Stinky. “A round fer d’eh singer ‘ere ‘n’ d’eh lady ‘ere.”

“Can I have a drink too?” Edgar asked with a wide toothy smile. The dwarf hmmed for a moment and glanced over to Bartleby who smiled. “He’s with us, he’s cool.” That said, the dwarf snapped his fingers and ordered another drink for the rogue.

The conversation was calm and pleasant as the four spoke. The time together came to a close as an unusual elf in black with an unusual eye entered the establishment, whispered into the dwarf’s ear, then made a quick exit. With a sigh, the dwarf rose to his feet then smiled widely, slapped Edgar on the back with a hearty laugh. “I really like you guys! Tell ya what, I’ll ‘ave a barrel of Pop’s Ale delivered to yer room.”

Bartleby chuckled softly as he puffed his pipe, raising his mug in thanks. “You’re too kind. Who are you anyways? It’d be weird to just call you stranger all the time.”

“M’eh name’s Drekker. Pleased t’eh meet cha.” The dwarf smiled as he shook their hands one by one as they introduced themselves. Soon enough, the stout man turned and left the Stinky Gnoll.

“Why does that name sound so familiar…” Bartleby furrowed his brow as he fingered the petals of the sunflower entangled in his beard. Then it hit him: “That was the guy who runs Kaldest!”

The next morning, everyone would gather at the Tipsy Gnoll. Abbadon and Edgar would handle the mission “Drugs and Pugs” while the other three would handle the mission “Bully the Bully.” By the end of the day, it was planned that the party would regroup at the Tipsy Gnoll again, gather supplies, then head out the following day.

The first job from the board...

Spider clopped through the cobble streets with his bandanna pulled up covering his lower face. His brown eyes continued to scan the area in hopes to avoid any more golem sightings. As the wizard looked over his shoulder, he let out a sigh. “Man… I wish I could sleep like that.”

Edgar continued to snore loudly as he rolled onto his side. His hands clenched from time to time as he mumbled something unintelligible. On occassion Otar noticed the halfling’s brow furrow from stress. He wasn’t sure if he should reach over and shake Edgar awake, but Spider finally came to a stop in front of the Tipsy Gnoll.

“That was one of the best night’s I’ve ever had.” Bartleby beamed over his mug of water while Celean nodded happily. Abbadon’s features looked exhausted, he reached up and massaged his shoulders as he muttered something under his breath. Something about bed bugs that seemed insistent in getting to know him. The three looked up towards the new arrival: their wizard companion pulled down his bandanna from his face and gave a slight nod. “Hey guys.”

Stinky brought in a hunk of meat and a mug of water for Otar, setting it in front of the human as he rested his spellbook on the table. “Sorry it took me awhile. You wouldn’t believe the weird shit I was seeing.” Snatching the mug and putting it to his lips, the wizard drained what he had and then slammed it down. “Did you know this place has golems? I mean, not everywhere… but there are a few just walking around like they’re a bunch of guards.”

“Partly true.” The halfing bard smiled as he tore away a chunk of meat from his plate and popped it into his mouth. “There’s two golems that have been given to Kaldest Keep as a gift. Learned it from some scamps last night… a woman named Lilian Beregon.”

“Woman?” Otar’s face contorted into a confused look as he tried to piece together what his companion had said. The last time he had seen Lilian was when he ran out of Glasscliff, but she was a small girl. Granted he had a golem chasing after him at the time, he never did confirm that she was dead. All he heard was a scream.

Bartleby nodded as Abbadon tapped his fork on the edge of his plate before he finally inquired. “Didn’t you know a Lilian?” Otar gave a slight shrug in reply, the wizard appearing just as confused as his companions. “Any ways… lets get down to business.”

Celean laid down Old Ben’s map and set the finished plates on either side of the parchment to weight the sides down. Abbadon sat back on the bench for a moment and tapped the location where Sansport rested. “First off, we’re going to need gold if we’re going to grab a boat and get back home. It sounds like the Outreach center is where we’ll need to go.” Celean seemed to bring a hand up over her mouth as she stifled a laugh. “Sorry, just found it funny that the place is called the…” her voice trailed off as she stifled another laughter.

The streets of Kaldest Keep were busy with activity, word of the Festival of the Sand Gods seemed to bring in quite a bit of travelers from all around the south. It was hard to believe that this place was once a military outpost for the kingdoms of the south. As Spider trotted lazily up to the adventurer’s guild, Edgar never seemed to have awaken from his sleep.

“Is he dead?” Celean asked with a curious tone in her voice.
“Naw, he’s just really lazy I guess.” Otar said with a chuckle. “Must be a halfling thing.”
“Hey!” Bartleby snapped before taking another puff from his pipe.
“We’re here.” Abbadon called out before hopping down and making his way into the wooden building. A large sign hung above the entrance of the structure, painted in faded red “Outreach Center.”

A young man stood behind a counter as he dragged a pencil back and forth on a piece of parchment. He looked up as he spotted the new comers file in. “haven’t seen you guys around these parts. You all new?”

Celean and Otar spread out in the back and looked over some of the job posting boards. The tasks at hand varied from minor jobs such as washing dishes for a few pubs, to that of guard duties that the city watch did not take a part in.

Bartleby smiled as he leaned against the counter with a charming smile. Abbadon however, loomed behind the halfling like a wall of intimidating meat. “Yes we are my friend! But we’re also looking for some work and were told this is the place to be!”

It was obvious that the halfling could make a living off selling anything to anyone because the human behind the counter seemed to let out an exhausted sigh. “Yes… we have random jobs posted here and you can earn gold for it. Just look over there…” He gestures to the boards Celean and Otar were looking at. “Grab a ticket. Bring it here. Complete them. Get paid. It’s the Kaldest dream I tell ya.” The sarcasm that oozed from the proprietor made it seem like he has been working the Kaldest dream for years.

Abbadon and Bartleby soon joined the other two at the job boards. “Anything worth taking?” The large muscled man asked.

“A couple… It looks like a few of these have openings for a limited amount of time.” Otar seemed to gesture to a few nailed up parchments that were posted on the bulletin board. “But… they DO pay good.”

“We’re signing up for this one.” Abbadon set down the parchment described as ‘Dead Sewage’ in front of the man at the front desk. The job posting seemed official enough, considering the one paying for the job’s completion was the city watch. It was a straight forward mission: Meet with the City Watch contact “Mitch” and dispose of the undead in the sewers.

Abbadon glances about as he and his companions walked down the street. keeping an eye on the street names as they neared their destination. “We’re going to need blunt weapons. They’re work best against skeletons.” Celean brought her hands together and cracked her knuckles while Bartleby spotted a tree and ran towards it.

Taking a firm grip of a sturdy branch, the halfling braced his footing against the trunk of the tree and pulled. Soon enough the bard had in his hand a make shift club and smiled confidently until a shrill whistle was heard. “Hold it right there! You! You’re destroying public property!”

A young guard with an odd 5 o’clock shadow built up on his face rushed the halfling and lowered his whistle. Pointing accusingly, the watchman seemed to get straight down to business. “That’s a 15 silver fine. Pay up or I’m taking you down to the-”

Abbadon came up from behind the guard with a disgruntled look on his face. “15 silver? For a tree? That’s crazy.” Before the city guard could say anything else, Celean seemed to leaned forward with a suspicious look in her eyes. “His badge is fake. It’s made of cloth.”

The poor makeup smeared down the teenager’s face as he sweated profusely, Abbadon holding the boy by the neck of his shirt as the party marched to a guard post.

“Bingles? Dat you? Ah shit. You sure bit off more than you could chew this time.” A dwarf tipped his helmet towards Abbadon and company as he held his hand out and took the boy’s wrist, leading him into the guard house. “Sorry bout that lads. M’lady. This boy’s a bit of a trouble maker… we’ll keep him here in the cells fer the night ‘n’ notify his mum bout the trouble he has caused.”
Abbadon’s brow furrowed as he listened to the dwarf’s explanation of the youth’s scams against visitors in the city, targeting tourists, and demanding fees for ludicrous things. Eventually the large man gave the dwarf 5 gold to pay for the boy’s bail in hopes it would not provide trouble for the mother. With that bit of business settled, the party continued down the road where they met up with a board looking orc in armor. His shoulder displayed an authentic city watch badge, and he wore a plate featuring the name “Mitch.”

A party at the worse inn in town and Otar finds himself in a bind

The inn was not the prettiest of places to be. It immediately opened up to the common area where several patrons had settled into their seats and proceeded to look gloomily into their drinks. Manning the front desk was a wide eyed gnoll who wore a stained ragged apron who immediately brought his attention to his new arrivals. Within a moment, he leaned forward with sniffed the air in hopes to get an idea if they were present for business or to waste his time. “What can I do for you, my honored guests of the Tipsy Gnoll yes, hello, hi.”

Celean looked back at her companions as Abbadon was just making his way through the door. “Just here for rooms and food. That’s al-” “Wonderful!” The gnoll interrupted. Within moments he produced a set of keys for his would be guests. “10 coppers each, and I’ll come bring the food and the drink.” With a slight shrug, everyone dug into their pouches and produced the fee introduced to them, then made their way to a large table to settle in.

A few words were exchanged with each other before the gnoll came and set a plate of various meats in front of his new guests. He seemed rather excited about receiving unfamiliar faces into his little inn, and set the keys excitedly in front of them. “If you’d like to spend an extra 2 gold, I deal the best Pop’s ale here! I swear you’ll love it! The best of the best!” From the background, a dwarf sat in a corner, and as if on cue, he cried out “The best of the best!”
Bartleby was never one to really refuse a drink, particularly one he hadn’t had since his capture, and it seemed that Abbadon and Celean were inclined to agree. With a nod between the three, the gnoll rushed to his counter and began to pour several mugs of a frothy brew.

“First thing’s first. We touch base with the Outreach Center and look into the jobs posted there. Hopefully we can scrounge up enough gold to buy a ship then head to Glasscliff.” Abbadon’s voice was firm and decisive as he brought a chunk of meat to his lips and tore from it. It wasn’t the best meat he’d ever had… in fact it was maybe the worse. Regardless, there was a first time for everything so he continued to dig in.
Bartleby casually picked at his meal while Celean prodded her dinner with suspicious pokes. Eventually 3 mugs slammed down in front of the three, who quickly took their drinks and started to drown away the bitter taste.

The Tipsy Gnoll was dead silent, occasionally a few whispers from the scatter patrons, and a large belch from the dwarf in the corner. This annoyed Bartleby, and it seemed to annoy the dwarf as well. Soon enough the stout bearded man stood upon his table and began to sing drunkenly. “You come here ya come there, you seek a decent fair. Yer pockets are lackin gold ‘n’ empty~! Yer down on yer luck, ‘n’ can’t git outta the muck – Ya got ale to wash away the worries!”

Fingers strum upon the lute in Bartleby’s hands as he stood in his chair and accompanied the dwarf in his song. It was catchy and simple, the general ideas of drowning away your fears and hardships, it was enough for the dwarf to go as far as ordering another round for himself and the three. Abbadon laughed as Celean got into the spirit of things and joined in the song, and soon enough the run down pub was roaring in song and dance.

Hours passed and people continued to sing and dance, Bartleby strumming away and leading the chorus until a pair of men from the nightwatch entered the Tipsy Gnoll. One of the men nodded towards the proprietor “Stinky.” The gnoll nodded in response before pointing towards the dwarf. It seemed like the Night Watch were familiar with the rambunctious individual and made their way to him as he stumbled about in a drunken haze. “Alright alright you lot. Break it up. We’ve got plenty of noise complaints coming from this place, so you all calm down.” There was a resounding groan of disappointment as the two guards started to drag the dwarf out of the door.

As the three picked up their things, they eventually went up to the common room to turn in for the night. It was maybe one of the worse nights sleep they had ever experienced. Except for the whole: Sleeping on a solid floor in a prison cell thing.

Spider travelled the road casually towards the Lumbering Giant as Edgar rested peacefully in the back. Otar glanced about the closed marketplace, noting a sight of something unusual… a golem. It was of simple make, clay, lumbering, and it appeared to patrol the area as if it were in charge of guarding the area at night. It was then, that Otar raised a brow and brought his hand to the bandanna around his neck. He quickly pulled it up and over his nose so not to be noticed… But the golem had stopped its routine and was now staring at him. “Shit.” The wizard uttered under his breath… but the magical construct did not chase him by the time he left the area. It only stood there and stared until he left.

Hopping down from the wagon and handing Spider over to the stableboy, he reached over and picked a few coins from Edgar’s money pouch. “This should about cover it.” He flipped a few coins to the boy who smile and nodded respectfully in thanks. Otar glanced about the area once again, making sure he wasn’t followed, and when reassured of his isolation, he ducked into the Lumbering Giant.

The Adventurer's head north and settle into the small city

“It’s a weird city. That’s all I was really able to gather.” Bartleby brought his pipe to his lips and gave it a few puffs as he settled into the back of the wagon. The halfling made his rounds amongst travelers they occasionally passed, getting what information he could of the Southern lands they had little knowledge of. “The farmer I spoke too mentioned that he normally heads there to deliver shipments of grain… It’s sort of a independent city from the rest of the south. It’s SORT of neutral like Glasscliff, but it used to run by the kingdom of Terval before its fall. If we want to head to Sansport, Kaldest Keep is where we’ve gotta go through first.”

As Edgar snored loudly in the small pile of hay, Celean looked up at the clear blue skies, past the canopy of tree branches that shade their travel. “The sooner we’re north, the better.”

“The longer it takes us to head north, the better.” Otar muttered under his lips as he flipped through his spellbook. There’s too many blank pages for him to feel comfortable, and he did miss the days where he could spend hours going through dusty old tomes to satiate his desire for magic.

As hours passed, the wagon continued to rock back and forth and the forest eventually gave out to the sight of rolling hills.. Abbadon squinted his eyes as he looked atop the largest hill to find a large military stronghold. “That must be it.” With a flick of the wrist, the reigns snapped and Spider picked up his pace faithfully.

It didn’t take much time until the open lands turned into fields crafted for farming. Wheat swayed back and forth as the wind pressed against them to the rhythm of nature. It was hard to believe that this area was once considered a defensive ground against the north: The faces of the farmers looked busy and happy, children were playing, and the city that developed around the keep seemed teeming with life.

“I’ll… be right back! Just going to have myself a bit of a look around.” Before anyone could say anything, Bartleby gripped the edge of the wagon and hopped off. The bard eventually ran ahead and towards the first signs of the town. With a welcoming grin and a few puffs of his pipe, he casually greeted some of the guards that stood watch. Some words were exchanged, and soon enough the halfling went further ahead.

Abbadon’s eyes were focused on the keep itself, the high raised walls stood looming over what appeared to be the market district, and it was no wonder that the local farmers seemed quite happy, they were safe and secure here. It was bewildering though, never in his life had he seen a town with guards mostly composed of-

“Orcs. There’s a small population of orcs here that seem to serve as the majority of the security.” Like magic, Bartleby was settling into the back of the wagon once again. Abbadon gave a slight nod to a pair of guards the wagon passed, a dwarf and a orc who seemed to be walking their beat. “I can see that…” The large man cocked his head back to the hearty halfling who was already refilling his pipe full of some herbs. “What else did you find?”

With a clever smirk, the bard nodded his head knowingly, happy to see that his information gathering was appreciated. “The place is mostly populated by humans… Dwarves, half-elves, a small population of halflings, half-orcs, and as you already know: Orcs. There’s a place called the Outreach Center, sponsored by Kaldest itself which provides small work for adventurers who are looking to make an honest bit of coin. But…” He let the word linger in the air. “That’s just another way of saying bounty hunting. Beyond that, it looks like the place is run by a retired adventurer named Drekker Minedigger. Not a position he seemed happy about getting, but he seems to run a tight ship filled with opportunities for even the not very fair races. THAT’D explain why we do not see many of our pointy eared friends here.”
Bartleby took another puff from his pipe before pulling out a small scrap of parchment that had a few additional notes written down. “If we’re looking for money, we can head over to the Outreach Center. Our friend Silas had a bounty on him that we can cash in on for some extra gold. We can retire for the night at the Tipsy Gnoll, the Lumbering Giant, and if we’re feeling like sleeping on a nice feathered bed… the Sleepy Time Inn.” The halfling let out a low chuckle as he placed the small bit of parchment away. “Everyone seemed to advise against staying at the Tipsy Gnoll though. Sounds like the place isn’t very hygienic, but for a place that costs a handful of coppers, I guess that sort of explains it.”

A wicked smile crossed Abbadon’s lips as he heard the description of the unsavory spot. He was the type of man who would rather stay in a place of little luxury, especially considering what little gold he carried on himself at the time. “Well I know where I’m staying for the night.” And with that said, the rest of the party seemed to chime in “Same.”

The cover of night blanketed Kaldest Keep in a cool breeze: The party settled on getting a good night’s rest before heading over to the Outreach Center in the morning. Spider’s hooves echoed upon the cobblestones as it approached the Tipsy Gnoll; already they could hear the sounds of grumbling of those who frequented the inn. The sign looked like it was about to fall apart, and the air was not a welcoming smell. As the party hopped off the back of the wagon, Otar gave Abbadon a slight nod. “I’m going to head over to the lumbering giant. It doesn’t look like this place has a stable for Spider, and I’m guessing I need to put Edgar SOMEWHERE.” The large warrior slapped the wizard’s shoulder with a slight smile before heading into the inn. “Be well friend, get a good night’s rest.” And that said, Abbadon and the others slipped through the doors of The Tipsy Gnoll.

Edgar finds himself fighting someone he did not expect

The halfling’s hand drew up to shade his eyes from the spot light, his attention focused on the man dressed up as a jester. “Who are you? Where am I?”

The plastic smile remain frozen on the harlequin’s face as he turned to Edgar. “Why I’m here because you’ve summoned me! Tis your invitation is all I needed, and thus, I am here! What a silly question to come from you!” The audience burst into laughter, the sound echoing throughout the auditorium.

With a furrowed brow, Edgar drew his hand to his side to make sure he still possessed his weapons, and to his approval, he could feel the weight of the crossbow.

“And now we shall see who walks away from this mess, shall we? I introduce to you, our second player to enter the stage! Let us see who walks away with the body eh?!” The Harlequin continued to stare at Edgar with unblinking eyes as the audience’s cheer grew in excitement.

Click

Edgar’s head jerked towards the aisle as a bolt came piercing out of the darkness. With quick reflexes, the halfling’s arm raised and he deflected the projectile with his buckler. Without hesitation he raised the crossbow from his side and fired in the general direction of where his attacker could be.

There was no confirmation of hit, just the sound of his bolt hitting something in the far back. Soon enough another spotlight switched on and focused on another individual in front of him.

A halfling, smoothed well kept hair, wearing his clothing, and featuring a perfect smile. He looked like Edgar, but a more “gentlemanly” and perfect version of him. The other Edgar had finished reloading his crossbow and brought it up to fire once again.

“A doppleganger?” Edgar’s eyes went wide before he dived into a row of seats. As he kept his head down low and pushed past the skeleton’s legs, he looked up and noticed the spotlight was still following him. Cursing under his breath, he loaded another crossbow bolt and looked up to notice that the other spotlight was slowly making its way towards his position. With finger resting on the trigger, the halfling relaxed on his back and waited… then fired as soon as his assailant came to view.

A solid thunk noise was heard as the other Edgar stood with mouth open in shock. There was no time to waste as Edgar dropped his crossbow and unsheathed his dagger. Tackling his twin and pinning him to the ground, the halfling pressed the blade to his attacker’s neck. “Who are you!?”

Through strained breath, the twin muttered “I’m… you!”

“That’s stupid. Why are you here?”

As the other Edgar’s face contorted in pain, he seemed to have a confused look in his eyes. “You summoned me… YOU summoned ME.”

Through clenched teeth, Edgar slit the throat of his attacker and stood up. The audience cheered as victory seemed to be had, and the spotlight redirected itself back to the Harlequin who now clapped his hands excitedly.

“Bravo, bravoooo! It’s good to see you’ve still got possession of your body! I do look forward to us meeting again in the future, but please. Do not bother me like you did this time. It can be quite annoying.” Although the jester’s face was frozen in its amused state, the tone of the man’s voice had dropped from a cheerful demeanor to that of irritation. Before Edgar could say anything, the Harlequin made a grand gesture towards the audience and the spotlight switched out on him. Then switched out on Edgar.

As the halfling stood in darkness for a moment, he eventually took a step forward and a light above him seemed to turn on. He was no longer in a large auditorium, but in a sealed room similar to the one he started in. There was a steal door instead of a shdowy portal, air vents carved into the wall, a lever besides the door, and two numbers above the lever. A 1 and a 0.

The halfling’s shoulders tensed as he took another step forward and the 10 began to count down. 9… 8… 7… Rushing up to the lever, Edgar grasped it and gave it a sharp tug down. The count down had stopped and reset itself back to 10.

Over the course of time, the rogue attempted to pry the door open. Climb up to the vent and yell into it… but only was yelled back by his own voice, words, etc. With every pull of the lever, Edgar would pace then try to listen beyond the steel door, only to hear his own mumbled words from the other side.

Finally, Edgar turned around… stood in the middle of the room and watched the count down.

3…

2…

1…

CLICK

The steel door slid up and the other room revealed itself… it was a passage way like he expected, but with dagger in hand, he proceeded forward. The new room was like the one he was in, light source from above, vent of the door, a lever, the counter at 0. No other exits. Nothing of notice save for…

Where Edgar finds himself to be the star of the show

Minutes felt like hours as Edgar stood in the middle of the passageway. He gathered all four torches and wrapped the rope he had found around them. With an annoyed look in his eyes, the halfling ran forward and into the black portal… to find himself where he started.

He was back in the passageway. The torches that were lining the walls were now in his hands and bound by rope.

With a roll of his eyes, Edgar replaced the torches onto the wall and walked through the shadowy portal.

Again and again the halfling stepped through one side of the portal and would appear at the other end until… Edgar’s head jerked up and he tied one end of the rope around the torch at the far end torch… gripped the rope tightly and jumped through.

It was an interesting sight: The rope dangled from its bindings and into the darkness suspended, but from his end: He held the rope in his hands and feeding into the darkness behind him.

It didn’t take much to get his thoughts going, but Edgar tied the other end of the rope onto the torch in front of him, and as a sigh echoed through the hallway, the walls of shadows vanished. And there, were two wooden double doors in front of him.

There was hesitation from Edgar’s footsteps as he moved forward. The halfling eventually brought himself up against the doors and pressed his ear against it. There was silence… then clapping.
The clapping Edgar heard was that of an audience. It didn’t make sense: What in his mind could be doing this to him? Soon enough he reached up to the doorknob and gripped it.

There was a weird viscus fluid coating the door in which the halfling wiped off on his pants, and with caution he opened the door to a crack… A blinding light greeted him as he peeked through. He was only able to catch a glimpse: He looked out onto a stage and apparently a spotlight was fixed on him.

There was little time for hesitation as Edgar slipped out from the door and made his way to the side of the stage. Where he expected paths off state, there were only alcoves. No time to think, and the rogue stepped into the cover of shadows and avoided the audiences view. The spotlight had not budged from the door, and as he peeked out to the crowd, he noticed an odd sight.

Every audience member, although murmuring and clapping, were nothing more than skeleton’s sitting in their seats.

Sweat rolled down his brow as he quickly pushed forward and out of his cover, jumping off stage and to the side aisle to the left. Suddenly the spotlight shot back and focused on him as he ducked for cover.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!!! Welcome to the performance of today!!! Our first player upon the stage it seems, is the ever quiet and ever sly, Edgar!!!”

The halfling’s ear’s twitched as the voice echoed behind him, and he quickly looked to the stage. There stood a man, clad in makeup and a wide smile. The jester’s hat rang with each small gesture he madeThe harlequin continued to stare out to the waiting audience who soon broke out into cheers of excitement.

Edgar drifts to sleep...

Edgar closed his eyes and drifted to sleep as he settled into the wagon pulled by Spider. The bottle of whiskey he had taken from the small mansion helped warm his belly and eased his muscles, and that’s what mattered. As the birds chirped overhead and the wagon shook back and forth, lulling him to sleep, the halfling…

Woke to find himself face down on a cobblestone floor.

Slowly, Edgar pressed his hands onto the floor and pushed himself up. Eyes scanned the room for a moment, a single torch lighting the area. It was a simple room, nothing within it, except for the door. A single wall of darkness. With a soft chuckle, Edgar ran his fingers through his oily black hair and stepped towards the wall of black and stuck his hand into it. There was nothing: No bite, nothing solid, just a hand out stretched. With a mischievous smirk, the halfling took a step forward and into the darkness.

A narrow hallway stood before Edgar, ending with another black portal of shadows before him. The the walls to his side, both lit with two torches. In the middle of the hallway was a single coil of rope. For a moment he glanced behind his shoulder to find the black wall behind his where he expected it to be… but as he looked forward, he found another similar portal across his passage way. His mind must be having fun with him as he stretched out a hand towards one of the torches and brushed his hand over the open flame.

Nothing. No warmth. Just flames passing around his fingers. An amusing moment. With a slight shrug, Edgar turned towards the passage way and made his way to the other end, snatching up the coil of rope.

It was puzzling: the rope had weight, texture, everything. Before Edgar could say anything, he had already crossed the other side of the passageway to find himself… in a familiar situation.

The passageway was as he left it, save for the rope he was now packing away. With an annoyed sigh, Edgar snatched a torch off the wall and examine the area… But as soon as he took the torch, he could feel the heat pour out from the flames. Staring at the object in his hands, he tilted his head back and listened to the air.

With map in hand, where to go?

The fight against the Parkers has ended and the party has gathered at the mansion. Bodies litter the wedding grounds and the mansion with the scent of flowers and blood. Spider and Otar stood in front of the building where the others had finished their business. The old horse looks about the bloody wedding grounds un-phased by the chaos that had just occurred. He’s a horse. The fuck does he care?

Picking a map off Ben’s body, it only appears to be focused on this region of the land. None of you are familiar with the lands beyond the White Sea, only that it was South of where you are familiar with. Not many cross it simply due to the inconvenience. To return home, you would need to reach Sansport, take a ship to Glasscliff, and continue from there. It is nearing noon, if you gather some food and leave now, you can reach Kaldest Keep by nightfall. Alternatively you may head towards the Parker’s homestead to the east.

Abaddon rolled his shoulders as he stared at the map for a moment before turning it over to Otar. The black haired man nodded to the wizard for a moment. “Well we have a couple of places we can head out to. Don’t know where to start.”

Otar bit his lower lip as his eyes scanned towards the others, he knew what their answers would be, but he wasn’t going to like it.

Celean continued to load up gear onto the wagon hitched to Spider before speaking up “We should continue north.” Her tone was set in its usual matter of fact tone.

Otar finally let out a sigh as he continued to scan the map for more details. Heading north would mean crossing the White Sea, and the only connection between the south to the northern lands would be that of Glasscliff. If there was any place he would like to avoid, it would be Glasscliff. For a moment however, he eyed the map and noticed the “Ruins of Terval.”

“What’s going on with Terval? We could head over ther-”

Bartleby’s lips sealed to a single line as he shook his head. “No… we want to avoid that area. It’s gods know what country. No matter where you’re from, there’s words in the air that talk about Terval. Big kingdom, gone in the blink of an eye. The undead attacked it, and now, all that’s left? The Black Marshes. You want to avoid it.”

Otar let out a sigh from his lips as Edgar hopped into the wagon with a bottle of whiskey. The halfling smiled a bright disturbing smile of jagged teeth as he soon followed up with a swig from the bottle. “It’ll be alright. Lets go north, what could go wrong?”

The party took north, towards Kaldest Keep in hopes to make their way to Sansport then Glasscliff. Each person took turns to keep a watchful eye, but Edgar drank his bottle heavily with a mischievous grin on his lips. It didn’t take long however, until he passed out and snored loudly at the back of the wagon.

The sun lowered and the birds took to the skies for their homes. Before everyone’s eyes, they saw rolling hills, and from there, a sprawling town. A keep at the very top.

In which the party finds themselves as the guests of honor

Edgar’s feet moved swiftly into the confines of the small manor. With the moonlight providing a welcoming glow to rooms ahead of him, Edgar took a moment to stare into the darkness until his eyes adjusted. A few paintings of individuals lined the walls, no one of notable interest to the small man as he made his way into the living room.

The living room was not as impressive, a large couch, a grand piano, fireplace, and a painting of a nobleman hanging and overseeing the room. “Well aren’t you something…” Edgar muttered under his breath as he stared at the painting. It was one of those eerie paintings where it felt like the gaze of the man was following the halfling wherever he went… but it didn’t bother him. What bothered Edgar were the two obsidian pieces that made the blacks of the painting’s eyes.

Who would go as far as to place two solid pieces into such a work of art? Surely the painter thought it was a statement to make his piece unique: To Edgar, it didn’t seem to do the painting justice. The halfling wasn’t raised to appreciate art, but he knew when a art piece was pushing its luck. It was up to him to make right, this artistic folly. As his hand grasped the fireplace’s shelf and hoisted himself up, he removed his dagger and got to work.

“Hello…?” A woman’s voice was muffled from upstairs, the floorboards now creaking as one of the guests of the manor began to stir. The woman put on her robe and opened her bedroom door. Glancing from left to right, she saw nothing and made her way downstairs. No one was present it seemed, and she made her way to the front door. Checked it, and found that it was still locked. With a slight shrug, the woman retired back to bed.

Edgar smiled toothily as he tossed the two obsidian pieces into the air and skillfully caught them in his cloak’s pocket. The halfling making his way back to the barn to rest for the night.

The crack of dawn was already busy as the wedding party had set up. Bartleby stirred for a brief moment as he remained comfortable in the hay and cot. It was nice to have a place to sleep that wasn’t a bush or a wooden floor. Regretfully the chirping birds were not the ones to wake him up, but the loud scream of a man from outside the barn.

The halfling sat up quickly, his eyes wide and darting across the room. His companions sitting up in a shocked state. “The hell was that…?” Bartleby threw the covers off his body and ran up to the barn door where he tilted his head to try to see through the crack. Abbadon came up from behind and took a peek as well but seemed to mutter a curse.

The wedding party had been busy, well rested and with celebrations underway. Lying tied down to a table in front of the barn was a man, mouth open and eyes rolled back. His life gave away as he drowned in his own blood, and standing over him was Silvy with a dagger in her hand. The little girl continued to thrust the dagger into the body, sticking the man like a pincushion as the crowd murmured something and cheered as the girl let out a cry of delight.

“Praise the Goddess Lolth… for she watches over us and grants us all a new beginning.” Uncle Ben stood at the upper balcony of the manor. Standing beside him was Peter and a drow woman as they held hands. The two wore wedding garments, and it seemed their vows had been exchanged, the look of joy in their eyes as they embraced each other once more and exchanged a passionate kiss.

There was a silence from Ben, until he raised his hands to those who were watching. “Let these sacrifices commemorate this beautiful union.” His words changed however, and he began to speak undercommon as if he had known the words all his life.

Silvy smiled as she looked down at the dead body in front of her and tucked the knife away. Her mother then walked up to the little girl and lit a torch, handing it carefully to her daughter while whispering something with a reassuring smile. With a small hop, the little girl eyed the barn and began to make her way to set the building aflame.

Abbadon’s head jerked back from the crack and placed his hands on the barn door and gave it a push. The doors jerked briefly but something had stopped it from opening. The large man looked back and forth at his companions, Bartleby already backing away from the door.

“I think we helped the bad guys.” Otar sighed as he looked over to Edgar who was already looking around for a way out.

“Fuck this.” Abbadon unsheathed his falchion and brought the blade down against the barn door with a hard crack.

From outside, Silvy stopped for a moment as she watched the door jerk forward. Soon enough another strike was made against the barn door and the front splintered open. The doors were too strong however, and the tools used to barricade it held firmly. The hole was not all that big, however it was enough for Celean. The woman’s hand reached out and she maneuvered her head through the opening. Her shoulder relaxed as she dislocated her shoulder and then slipped all the way through.

“Don’t let them escape!” Peter cried out as he held onto his wife’s hand.

Silvy and the other wedding attendants began to rush the barn as Celean popped her arm back into its socket. Without a moment’s notice, the woman in red quickly turned around and pulled away the tools that held the door in place. As Silvy threw the torch at the base of the barn, the base immediately burst into flames. It was too late however, and the barn doors burst open.

An enlarged Silvy was one thing to fear, however an enlarged Abaddon was another.

The minstrel who tended to the wedding party charged at Celean, brandishing an axe. With a few slashes directed towards the woman, she hit nothing but air. Celean’s body jerked back to a wagon posted by the barn as she lept atop it. the minstrel continued her attack, hacking at her target but is parried with each swing she attempted. Soon enough the woman grew tired from her rage and looked up. The last thing she saw was Celean’s fist as it seemed insistent on making her acquaintance.

It seemed like a neat trick, really. Edgar had watched Celean pop her shoulder and slid into the hole with a great deal of grace. It couldn’t have been that hard, could it?

As the barn door burst open, Edgar’s arm popped back into place as he grit his teeth and kept his tears held back. “Ow.. just… Ah!” Several men and woman rushed towards the barn as the halfling pulled out his dagger and rushed out to join the fray. As hands groped for him, he felt a few blows aimed towards his direction but he reacted just in time.

Bartleby’s fingers strummed his lute as he finished the final chord, the halfling’s hand quickly stowing away his instrument and pulling out his crossbow. Firing into the crowd as it rushed him and his companions, a single figure seemed to come running towards him.

A dagger pierced the air as the bard took a step back, dodging Silvy’s thrust. There was little hesitation in the halfling’s movements as he pulled out his own dagger and slashed at the girl’s throat. The little girl dropped her weapon as she brought her hands up to her neck, fell to her knees, then collapsed.

Otar took a moment to catch his breath as he scanned the area. As he eyed Ben and Peter duck into the manor, he watched the drow woman’s hands and eyes glow. “Shit- Get down!”

A piercing bolt of energy broke into the sky from the drow’s fingertips as it came crashing into Abbadon’s chest. With a loud grunt, the barbarian began to press forward but was immediately attacked by the other wedding patrons.

The blows they delivered were anything but deadly, but as they continued to pound into him, he could feel his knees buckling. Despite his size, Abbadon was just a bigger target. As he cut down one individual and then another, the drow’s attacks continued and he felt magic beat into him repeatedly. For a moment, the large man’s attention shot to Celean, and another missile of magic struck him. His vision began to fade, and he was thrown back… “Celean… there’s a potion on my belt, you can use it on me…” And there, the towering juggernaut fell unconscious.

“That has got to be one of the most impressive way I’ve seen anyone fall.” Otar mused to himself with a sagely nod. There wasn’t enough time for additional observations however, and he chanted a few words before throwing a spell at the drow woman. She was far off, but he struck true as she reeled back in pain. Celean however, gave the now fallen Abaddon a puzzled looked and sighed as she jumped down from the wagon and rushed up to him. There was a vial that contained a blue fluid she was familiar with. A potion of cure light wounds.

It didn’t take much for her to quickly snatch the potion from her companion’s belt and begin pouring it into his mouth, but a pair of footsteps could be heard coming at her from behind. As soon as Celean finished administering the potion, she brought herself up to her feet and watched the cooks Buck and Chuck, brandishing butcher knives and sadistic smiles charge her.

The two cooks stopped in their tracks as a crossbow bolt shot across them. Chuck looked up to see Bartleby’s arm outstretched with crossbow in hand. The halfling stowed it away before unsheathing his blade once more. Edgar smiled as he tossed his dagger up and down skillfully as he eyed Buck in turn.

“As it should be, little people against little people.” Otar commented as he rushed past the four and towards the manor, Celean following suit.

Abaddon came to, his fingers digging into the grass as he pushed himself up. The drow woman was now directing her fire at Otar and Celean as they rushed the manor. The two halflings, Edgar and Bartleby had made short work of the two cooks, and pushed past them and made their own run for the manor. As the barbarian narrowed his eyes, he watched the drow woman with a surge of anger… and started running forward in turn.

Ben reappeared at the balcony with crossbow in hand. There, he and the drow woman began to fire from afar at the advancing party. Otar and Bartleby ducked behind a few tables and chairs, moving forward as slowly as possible. Edgar having fallen behind and taking cover behind a table. Celean however had dodged a few crossbow bolts and reached the door to the manor. As soon as she reached the door, she burst through it and into the building.

Abaddon pressed forward as the drow’s attention shot back and forth at those attacking and the large man on the approach. She was running out of spells however, and she had switched to throwing balls of acid at her attackers.

Bartleby patted Otar on the back as he readied his crossbow once again. “I’m going to get Spider and get things ready!” The wizard called out before ducking and running back towards the barn. Holding his breath for a moment, the bard turned onto his feet once more and began running forward. He brought up his crossbow and brought the drow woman into his sites and pulled the trigger and… nothing happened. “What the-” The halfling dove into the cover of several chairs as acid splashed behind him. Looking down at his weapon, the halfling started to his the crossbow as it seemed to stop functioning then… fired off into the air.

Edgar pulled out some rope and began tying it to his grappling hook as he took a peek at the action. It was an odd show however. He watched Bartleby attempt to fire at the pair on the balcony… then dive for cover. He watched the halfling hit his crossbow, then missfire into the air. He then went “Huh” as the crossbow bolt sailed into the sky… and came directly down into Ben’s head from above. The old man’s arms went limp, and then fell over dead. In shock, the drow woman quickly screamed out “You’re ruining everything!” At the top of her lungs and ran into the manor. Abaddon however had finally reached the building and ducked in.

Celean’s burst into the manor just in time for Peter’s fist to come down across her face. As she toppled back and rolled onto her feet, she looked up as the groom’s fist clenched. As the two leapt at each other, Celean and Peter exchanged blows and blocks, both equally matched. A good strike comes across Celean’s face once more causing her to topple back. As she spat out some blood, she noticed something at the corner of her eye. With a smug smirk directed towards Peter, he was then taken off guard as he heard his wife scream out “You’re ruining everything!”

Abaddon squeezed through the front door suddenly and brought his falchion down into Peter’s midsection, cutting through his gut and throwing the groom into the wall. The second floor’s boards creaked as the bride made her way to the stairwell where she saw Celean and Abaddon. The drow woman’s attention then jerked towards the balcony as she saw a grappling hook latch onto the edge.

“Dammit… dammit all…” The drow muttered to herself. With what spells she had left, her hands glowed and she began to throw balls of acid at the two below. Abaddon ducked for cover as Celean hid behind a dressed. She then watched Bartleby run into the foyer, firing a crossbow bolt at her direction. Ducking down and avoiding the shots by pulling away, the woman clenched her teeth. “I will kill you!” With hands glowing green, the bride whipped her body up to attack those below… but it was too late. Celean was already in range.

It took less than a second. Celean’s fists punched through the banister’s posts and through the drow’s kneecaps. As the woman collapsed to the floor, her body shook for a moment before her eyes rolled back and the drow’s body toppled over.

Edgar finished climbing to the top of the manor and whistled as he watched the others begin to calm themselves. Regretting he had missed the killing blow on the bride, the halfing made his way back to the balcony where he saw Otar riding a wagon pulled by Spider. There, the wizard seemed to think out loud.